


Loudness of the Brain

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, sherlock has a really loud brain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:41:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2319476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is too loud for Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loudness of the Brain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PotterheadAvengerDemigod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotterheadAvengerDemigod/gifts).



> Given to PotterheadAvengerDemigod because this is what is called a drabble. Also because she knows what I am actually planning to write.

Breathe in, breathe out.

In, out. In, out.

Loud, loud, the world is too _loud_. Everything is screaming for his attention, pulling his mind this way and that. He feels like a puppet, strung up and pulled in every direction, bent to the world's will.

He can feel everything. He can feel the cool leather of the sofa against his back, the softness of his silk robe lightly grazing his knees, the rough texture of the cushion under his fingers, the small breeze of air passing over him, the teasing touch of his curls.

He thinks he can almost feel the pull of gravity. Almost, but not yet.

God, he feels like he's going mad.

His mind palace is a jumble of information, his senses tangled up in one another, thoughts howling and screeching, clawing at him with their sharp talons.

But he can't.

He's close to breaking point, close to snapping. He feels like screaming but the sound is caught in his throat.

He digs his nails into his skin, just to feel pain.

He's vibrating, the blood humming in his veins. All the energy coursing through him but he can't move. There is an itch under his skin that he can't scratch, his mind is tearing him apart.

He needs control. He can't find any.

_Break, break, break._

The scream is lodged in his throat.

But then he feels it. The gentle slide of a hand through his hair. The warm huff of breath on his cheek. The smell of honey, earth and gunpowder filling his nostrils.

"My clever detective," comes the affectionate praise. He can hear the smile, hear the love in his voice.

He can breathe again.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, my tumblr is [here](goodbveclara.tumblr.com). 
> 
> If you wish, you can also leave a prompt in the comments here! (:


End file.
